


Insanity Cycle

by WindwiseWords



Series: Xenogen City [27]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Conjunx Endura, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fingerfucking, Grooming, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mentions of Spark Sex, Nervousness, Oral Sex, Partnership, Relationship Advice, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Spooning, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Uncertainty, polishing, preening, slightly OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 14:25:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8449744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindwiseWords/pseuds/WindwiseWords
Summary: Prowl forgot to calculate in a cycle that has been buried for the war. Now that it resurfaced in full swing, the strict SIC has to find a way to seduce the one bot he has eyes on with help from unlikely sources.





	1. The T-Rated Stuff

**Author's Note:**

> So for those that read Touch Me Not, I thought that would could have made two chapters nicely. So. Sorry for the tease, but you're all going to have to wait til tomorrow to find out what happens with Prowler and Optimus. 
> 
> Not exactly a ship, just can't honestly see Optimus fragging anyone that he sees as a 'subordinate' or not on level with his rank. Fraternizing and all. He doesn't want to play favorites. For record I haven't decided how i'm going to work in different cycles and what not but i've decided Seekers and Grounders work off different ones unless bonded (IE Wing/Drift) and that Carrier Class bots have a whole different issue. 
> 
> Yay for Knock Out. He's still the insane doctor we all know and love.

The third time this week. Prowl stood there knocking on the office door and though he sensed Optimus Prime in there, the leader refused to answer. His com link locked up, contact impossible, door locked, and Prowl angry about the entire situation. Until Ratchet’s hand came by, snagged him by the door wing, and hauled him off.

“Leave the big bot alone. There’s a damned good reason he’s locked up in there and the more you bother him the more it’s going to detract from his condition.” Ratchet barked out in the typical angry tone. Only Ratchet rarely dragged Prowl around like he did others. Evac stood behind him, clearly curious but never questioning Ratchet’s decisions.

“If Optimus Prime is ill, I need to know about that. I need to know when I can expect recovery.” Prowl wrenched himself free and ignored the sting in his door wing.

“Go ask Swerve. Chances are he figured it out before you did.” Ratchet waved his hand and turned back, snagging Evac by a ‘wing’ and hauling him along. “And you! You are way behind on the papers…” The two bickered down the hallway, and Prowl gratefully made haste away from them. A great pair, but a dangerously stubborn combination.

Swerve’s it was then. If there was gossip to be had, Swerve knew it.

 

By the time Prowl made it in, the bar was mostly empty save for Red Alert and Inferno making lovey eyes at each other in the corner. Prowl ignored their half-hearted salutes before going to stand looming over Swerve.

“Hey, Prowler! Kind of early for a drink.” Swerve smiled and tilted his head confusedly. “Want your usual?”

Prowl almost snapped out that he didn’t drink this early and Swerve should let him question first. Instead he sat down and nodded. “With whatever new creation you have for food.” Prowl added, and Swerve gave him another curious stare before fixing up the meal and drink.

“Not like you to eat here. Or to actually eat. Come on.” Swerve waved him along down the counter to the far corner, away from the door and the happy couple in the corner. “Look, you don’t talk. I get it. But something’s eating at you.”

Prowl blinked once before looking at the meal prepared for him. He took a bite, found he liked it, and sighed. “Ratchet informed me you would possibly know why Optimus Prime has locked himself away in his office—there is nothing funny about that!”

Swerve busted into laughter, shaking his head and holding up a finger for one moment. “No no, it’s not that it’s funny, it’s that you _forgot_! I mean you’re a grounder too. Maybe it’s because you’ve got Bluestreak to look after, but he’s nearly grown.”

Realization slapped Prowl in the face and he ran calculations instantly to double check the day in the thirteen month cycle all Cybertronians, save carrier class, went through. “Oh Primus.”

“I mean no bot as young-sparked as Optimus could resist a cycle, not after so many years of denying them.” Swerve continued, still grinning as he watched Prowl spiral down into realization. The drink and food became his solace and Prowl downed the food and drink faster than Swerve saw him ever before.

“No, Swerve, this is very bad.” A puzzled stare from the minibot followed by a shrug.

“If Optimus Prime goes through a usual heat cycle like everyone else, nobody is going to care. It’s natural.”

“That isn’t the _bad part!_ ” The bad part was that with Bluestreak almost grown Prowl was susceptible to this cycle for once. Swerve caught on and frowned a bit.

“Look Prowler, there’s worse things than wanting to frag the boss. He’s a good looking bot. Not really my thing, honestly, but I’m not exactly one to turn anyone down.” Swerve chuckled at his own flaw, known to be worse than some seekers in terms of ‘shareware.’ “If you ask me, a good frag is exactly what you need. Maybe it’ll get that stick out of your aft.”

Prowl glared and rubbed his face. “I cannot do that with Optimus Prime.”

“But he’s the only bot you would. Other than maybe Jazz, but he’s out on reconnaissance a system over. Heard they found an energon mine out there.” Swerve offered a switch in topic, not wanting to push Prowl too far.

“I cannot do _that_ with Optimus Prime. I’m not worthy of being in that light of attention.” Prowl heard a clink of glass and downed whatever Swerve sat in front of him without second thought. It burned his intake in the best of ways.

Swerve rolled his optics. “From what I’ve heard, he’s only ever asked you and Ratchet. What makes now different?”

Prowl raised his door wings defensively but lowered them and looked away. “Now he has other options besides us. There’s other mechs that are not just subordinates to him, which are on his level. And you tell me, Swerve. Am I exactly the pretty sort of bot that would match up with him?” Prowl leaned in closer, making a point. Swerve, despite himself, didn’t laugh or tease. He seriously considered Prowl.

“You’ve got a crisp cut charm to you, Prowler. Not pretty. You’re no seeker, but you’re still a Praxian build and with some polish and wax you’d look great, not just good.”

Prowl stared at Swerve and for a moment wondered if the minibot stared at him like he did at Knock Out. Which gave Prowl an idea. Slowly Prowl stood up, threw some credits on the counter, and went to leave. Swerve called out a friendly goodbye, and Prowl went to hit the showers.

 

“You want me to what?” Knock Out glanced up over a current patient, strapped down and gagged while Knock Out repaired his chest ‘raw,’ or without sedative. The mech seemed to just take it. That was a Decepticon for you. “Go over this again.”

Prowl took a deep in-vent and let it out slowly. “I want you to help me polish and wax. And then I want to know where you shop for your…Toys.” Prowl watched Knock Out look down at the mech on his table.

“Alright, Autobot. Let me finish with Brawl here and I’ll help you out. But you have to help me out.” Knock Out grinned and pointed at a chair. Prowl went to sit as Knock Out’s dexterous fingers worked through wires and lines, fixing them easily. “I want you to stop poking your nose through my medical bay doors and complaining about violations. This is how we do things. This is how it stays.”

Prowl thought about it for a bit and sighed. “Fine. I will take it up with Ratchet, make sure this does not scar or mentally injure bots.” Knock Out’s grin told him otherwise but Prowl left it alone.

“There you go Brawl. Don’t go breaking again so quickly.” Knock Out snapped, letting the big bot up and watching him rush out of the room. “What a sparkling about it… Just a little surgery. Alright, now then.” Knock Out went to the back of the lab and pulled out six containers of polish, waxes, and paints. Prowl felt nervous worry trail up his spinal strut. “Turn around and straddle the chair. I’m starting with those door wings of yours.”

Prowl did as requested and jumped as Knock Out gently spread a glop of polish over the surface. It was cool, and he shivered as claws he once avoided lightly grazed over the sensitive surface. “I am grateful you considered helping me.”

“Oh don’t be a kiss up. You just didn’t want to ask those annoying Autobot twins.” Knock Out grimaced. “I don’t blame you. Wing up.” He nudged the door wing to where he wanted it and started to rub the cloth into it with even pressure. “Gold is tacky anyways. Red is much better. So. Who are you trying to impress?” Knock Out grinned deviously. “I’m no gossip but I know there are rumors you and that soft-sparked leader of yours have coupled during these heats. And you and the one with the earthling’s accent.”

Prowl turned back to glare but was hit in the face with a polishing cloth. He turned back obediently and allowed Knock Out to work. “I’m not sure who I’m trying to impress. It’s futile. Optimus Prime does not go off looks.”

Knock Out quirked a brow and inspected his work before moving to the other door wing. “Every bot has a preference. Generally that preference is shiny, clean, and healthy. Unless you’re Vortex, or Whirl.” A soft grunt of irritation. “You really should clean more.”

Prowl grunted as the pressure increased to scrub away the grime. “Those are sensitive, watch it. Ratchet says the same thing all the time.”

“Well then. I’m going to _order_ it. I will not serve under a filthy SIC of any kind. So help me I will track your pretty aft down in the washracks.” Prowl turned to look at him only to have polish flicked onto his face. “Stop staring at me and hold still. Eyes shut.” Knock Out shifted around to rub the grey goo into his face plates. It smelled nice, something that Prowl would use if he cared enough. Knock Out seemed to have polish for all tastes. When the red medic finished, he held a mirror up for Prowl. “There’s the pretty Autobot face. Stand up, legs apart.” He ordered, and begrudgingly Prowl did as told.

When two hands worked on his tense back, it felt nice. Until those hands slid lower and smacked across his aft. “Watch it!” He growled, jumping away.

“Oh please, like that Jazz fellow hasn’t done that a million times. Get back over here.” Knock Out hissed, hooking a claw into Prowl’s hip and dragging him back. Prowl did _not_ like the mechhandling, but allowed it for now. The uncomfortable feeling of foreign hands on his rear didn’t fade until it was as shiny as the rest of his back.

Prowl watched the Mad Doctor slid around to his front and kneel to touch up a paint chip on his knee. “Do you do this for all mechs that come looking for a polish?”

“Only the sexy ones.” Knock Out pressed his lips into a focused line. Prowl couldn’t figure out if he was joking or not. “Every ‘con around complains about you. Getting fragged is known to loosen a bot up. Maybe I’m hoping you’ll stop pestering us.” Ah, now that sounded more logical. Knock Out started on his legs. “Not to mention we’re kind of curious to see if Optimus Prime actually frags anything. So far, Soundwave’s spying yielded nothing the entire war.”

Prowl glared and Knock Out just grinned up at him. “I hope you’re not planning on recording anyone during this heat cycle.”

“Only myself and whatever bot I choose.”

“I had the impression you and that Breakdown fellow were together.” Prowl mumbled and Knock Out paused.

“It is very complicated. I’m not a one partner bot. But you are right to assume I would choose him over others, yes. Would you not choose Optimus over others? You are partners in the same sort of sense.” Prowl thought about that and shrugged lightly only to be hit over the head by a polish tin. “Oh quit that. Polishing is an intimate activity and if I’m opening up so are you!”

Prowl gritted his teeth and nodded. “I suppose I would—hey!” Knock Out moved between his legs and polished his interface plate with careful strokes.

“Don’t be embarrassed. You said a full polish.” Knock Out chuckled, clearly testing Prowl’s limits. Prowl just took a breath and held it. “Like I said, an intimate activity. But you’re not shareware so at least I don’t have to concern about popping your plate.” Prowl almost did just to spite Knock Out but of course Knock Out might jump on the opportunity. He was almost as bad as Swerve.

When he finally moved on to his hips and up his sides, Prowl relaxed again. “You could warn a mech first.”

“I wanted to see if you were set on Optimus. Coding can be powerful on one’s inhibitions.” Knock Out glanced up. “I polished Skyfire like this. Despite what I seem like, I do have care for my patients. Social lives and medical statuses. I do not like to see mechs be hurt.” He paused at Prowl’s scoff. “I had a conjunx once.” That cut Prowl off short. “I cannot remember who, or when. The memory was ripped from me. I do not want that kind of emotional strife to strike anyone. And if you tell anyone that…” Claws latched into the edges of Prowl’s interfacing plate again. He jumped and looked away, nodding.

“I am one you can confide in safely, Knock Out.” And surprisingly that was true. “I don’t hate you or the Decepticons. Not anymore.” Knock Out started to apply wax to accent the glossy polish shine with brilliant mirror shine.

Knock Out nodded stiffly. “I have learned to tolerate you Autobots. Mostly. If Swerve pinches my aft one more time I’m going to hurt him.”

“I am going to add that to the short list of things I will ignore.” Prowl didn’t smile but snorted softly. Knock Out chuckled and instead of just grabbing for his aft this time, slid a hand along his hip and then moved to his rear. “Appreciated.” Prowl stated.

Knock Out hummed and shrugged. “It’s pretty clear you’re not going to try to frag me. No use teasing you anymore. I couldn’t even get you to whimper a little. Must be losing my touch.” Knock Out snickered again and rubbed the wax off, inspecting the shine. “Oh yes, Optimus will surely like this. Alright, Prowl.” Knock Out smacked his aft and laughed at the jump. “You’re done. Go buy Optimus something fluffy and cute. Something you Autobots like. I don’t think any of my toys will do any good, he’s not a kinky mech.”

Prowl blinked and nodded, turning to go. A hand caught him and pulled him back, staring at him. “All joking aside. Make this work. Even if he isn’t your conjunx or even partner, you’ll regret it if you pass this up.” Prowl nodded numbly as Knock Out shoved him out of his medical bay. Prowl’s feet made their way subconsciously toward a shopping district to purchase the ‘fluffy and cute’ thing for the most powerful Autobot alive.


	2. Sacred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl finally works up the courage to go to Optimus. Gift in hand he rouses the sleeping giant...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am completely aware this is a bit OOC. But I mean heat cycles and all, would YOU be quite the same? I have no idea who made the blanket. Ten credits on the Minicons.

Prowl stood at the office door with such fear and apprehension in his spark that Optimus Prime certainly felt it from behind the door. He raised a fist and rapped on the door. “Sir? I really need to speak with you.” There was no answer per the last four times he tried. “It is… It’s a personal matter, Optimus Prime. Please.”

A shuffle from behind the door, a pause, and the door slid open. Blue hands grabbed his free one and pulled it inside. The entire room smelled slightly sweet and to Prowl’s relief the stack of glasses proved Prime was refueling at least semi-regularly. Two blue eyes locked onto Prowl’s and then onto his hand. Optimus slid back his mask and let Prowl’s hand go.

“You didn’t have to go getting me something. This isn’t the first cycle you showed interest in spending with me, Prowl.” The Prime gestured to the box, wrapped in red paper with a blue bow. Prowl glanced away but straightened up and offered it to him.

“It has been some time. I felt this could ease any tensions.” The softness in Optimus’ eyes always threw Prowl off. He knew Optimus the Prime, a leader and mech of high standards and strong battle maneuvers, ones that perhaps outclassed Prowl at times. But this Optimus Prime gently took the box and with delicate, powerful hands undid the ribbon, setting it to the side.

It was a simple gift, a new berth blanket, but this one mimicked his old painted flames from earlier in the war. He lost enough paint to have two paint jobs but the last one he simply went with red and blue to conserve paints. Prowl opened his mouth to explain but found two powerful arms clutching him so close in a hug that his battle computer ran instant calculations for probability of being crushed. Of course it came back as literal zero. This was Optimus after all.

“I figured you forgot about those. I’ve been thinking about getting them back, thank you Prowl. This is lovely.” But as he pulled away from the hug, he set the box safely on his desk, then began to push the desk away from the cot set up behind it. Prowl swallowed hard. “But I know you didn’t just come here to give me a heartfelt gift.”

“No, sir.” Prowl looked him directly in the eye. Should he show hesitance at all, Optimus would ask him to go for fear of forcing anything on his SIC of Tactics.

That lightly sweet scent grew stronger, and Prowl realized Prime polished recently. Optimus came back to grip onto Prowl’s hips, pulling him against his own firmly. “Who did your detailing?” Optimus stroked a freshly polished door wing and hummed. “It’s not like you to get so shiny, you usually avoid it.”

Prowl again went to answer but blinked and found himself on the cot, soft and sturdy. He fisted his hands into the blanket and bit his lip plate as Optimus buried his face against ridged neck cables, glossa flicking out to tease. “S-Sir…” Prowl breathed.

“Optimus will do just fine, Prowl.” Optimus husked against Prowl’s neck, climbing to situate his smaller companion securely under him. Prowl felt the flutter of anxiety as Optimus slid a hand down Prowl’s side, testing his true desire. The shutter proved enough that Prowl heated at the ideas at hand.

Optimus smiled coyly and slipped the hand to Prowl’s interface cover, stroking it gently. Prowl returned the favor with a calf, bringing his leg up to offer Optimus something to rut against. The shear controlled power that struck his leg make Prowl moan softly. There was something entirely sexy about letting go control to his leader, one of the only he’d trust with his body like this.

Optimus continued to draw patterns on Prowl’s cover, blue eyes bright with desire. “Open.” The command shot straight through Prowl and he complied instantly, drawing a chuckle from Optimus. “So you’re feeling this heat too?”

“It’s very—Ah! H-Hard not to.” Prowl chewed his lip plate again. “You’re a very seductive mech when you want to be.”

Optimus’ eyes narrowed with appreciation as he sat back to look at Prowl’s erect spike and dampening valve. “As are you, Prowl.” A growl touched his voice and Optimus leaned forward, his panel snapping back with a click. The turn on with Prowl was that he _let_ Optimus take control, even when he lost his own.

Prowl whined and squirmed as two fingers ghosted around the rim of his valve before one slipped in easily, the second following. Optimus was always careful, even if all he wanted to do involved pounding Prowl into a strutless mess on this cot. _Soon enough,_ Optimus smirked and enjoyed the faces his stoic SIC made as he crooked his fingers, stroking nodes that he never forgot the place of, even after all this time. Though he didn’t want to take his time. Lust called stronger than the desire to please, and Prowl understood that as well.

Prowl felt a third finger slip inside and mewled, ignoring his dignity for now and focusing on a familiar old desire from the last cycle to simply be filled and taken. If it were any other mech he would feel the opposite, want to fill and take, but Optimus Prime was his superior in many ways. That leaked into any berthroom activities they partook in.

“Optimus! Please!” He begged, shifting his hips down and clenching his valve down tightly around them. Suddenly the fingers were gone, and Prowl began a whine before the world was tipped upside down and he found himself on his front. The same strong hands that so easily tore apart mechs in the field firmly but gently hefted his aft into the air.

“Just because you asked so nicely.” Prowl glanced back to see what Optimus was referencing before a hot glossa wiggled into his valve. Prowl cried out in both surprise and raw pleasure, gripping the blanket for dear life. _This_ was very new. Optimus rarely spent time on foreplay; they were both grown mechs who knew their limits and each other well, so no need to explore.

Prowl spat out static pleas and shoved his hips back into his leader’s face—something he could be ashamed about much, much later—and began to pant in attempt to help his overheating body. A tight coil of heat pooled behind his interface array and both he and Optimus could feel it. Optimus slid one hand from his hip to Prowl’s external node, and rubbed over it once, twice before Prowl’s optics went white and overload rocketed through his systems.

Optimus let his SIC come down from the overload, taking a moment to clean his face off and admire the view. Prowl showed this sexy side to nobody else, other than perhaps when Jazz convinced him that one more drink was a great idea, seven drinks in. But that never bothered Optimus; on these cycles, Prowl was his. And he intended to remind his SIC that.

“Next time you want someone to polish you…” Optimus growled by Prowl’s audial sensors, making the mech shiver. “You come to me.” Prowl moaned and nodded.

“Yes, Optimus—S-sir!” He yelped as the long-ignored spike of Optimus Prime roughly shoved into his valve. Size difference aside, Optimus was very well endowed, and secretly Prowl very much enjoyed the burn of his valve as it stretched to accommodate.

Optimus’ grip on Prowl’s hips tightened, and he set a strong pace that made Prowl moan and mewl with each thrust. Maybe the cycle coding, maybe Prowl’s great looks, maybe Optimus just liked to let go for some time here and there; whatever the case, Optimus increased his pace rapidly and found Prowl bouncing back into each thrust as best he could.

The strong grunts became growling moans deep in a revved engine, sending powerful reverberations through them both. Prowl’s valve cycled down hard to try to hang on to the spike it so desperately craved. A tight fit became intoxicatingly vice-like, and Optimus slammed into Prowl to the base and overloaded. Prowl followed him over the edge, a silent gasp on his face.

On compliance with their coding, both mechs’ chest plates tried to part. Prowl allowed his, and Optimus just managed to hang onto control enough to prevent it. The larger mech fell forward, catching himself on one arm and slowly lowering himself atop Prowl’s back.

Prowl began to purr, door wings sagging down to allow Prime a space to nestle against him. A secret Prowl would take to his grave: he loved to snuggle after a good interface. Optimus did too, but that wasn’t something to be shocked about as Optimus would cuddle just about any mech who asked.

Optimus carefully backed up a few minutes later and slipped out of Prowl, who jumped a bit and glanced back at two slightly apologetic blue eyes. “I am sorry, Prowl. I guess I lost control for a bit.” And because of the caring mech Optimus was, he hoisted Prowl’s legs over one arm at the waist, and inspected his valve for any tears or swelling.

“I’m fine, s—Optimus.” Prowl corrected, wincing a bit as Optimus turned him to his side. Prowl’s hips and valve ached in the best of ways, fading into dull pain as Optimus curled around his back. Neither bothered to extend their covers, and Optimus’ spike rested against Prowl’s aft. Despite the many centuries since this cycle had room to spring on them, Prowl sighed contently at the familiarity of Optimus curled against his back, a big arm covering his abdomen.

Optimus enjoyed the silence for a while before a thought crossed his mine. “Prowl, it occurs to me this cycle is supposed to occur once every thirteen human months.”

“Yes sir. Sometimes it arrives a bit early or late by a few weeks.” Prowl ran some calculations, which came back as ‘that’s almost right’ and Prowl decided good enough calculations passed after two overloads.

“I suppose I need to issue a statement.” Optimus didn’t groan, but Prowl could hear the distain in his voice at the idea of getting up. Instead the leader snuggled into Prowl’s helm and purred deeply. “I’ll do it later.”

“Sir—“

“ _Later._ I don’t much down time as it is, and I would like to share it with nobody else right now.” Optimus squeezed Prowl closer and chuckled as a very uncharacteristic squeak left his SIC.

Prowl decided to not press the issue and left it up to his Prime to choose how to handle. The dozy pair relaxed for several minutes before talking softly about things that kept them up, the state of Xenogen, how to handle the Decepticons, other topics they’d never share with anyone outside of this rather sacred time they spent so rarely together. Prowl began to slip into recharge, and briefly his calculations came back that this would probably happen much more frequently. Prowl didn’t mind, and as the same thought occurred to Optimus, he found he wouldn’t mind it either.


End file.
